The Visit
by Mandi5
Summary: Colonel Makepeace gets a surprising visitor. Please review!


Summary: A visitor comes to call on Colonel Makepeace. Please review. Set during Seasons 5 and 6.  
  
Spoilers for - Into the Fire, Shades of Grey, Watergate, Meridian  
  
Season: Season 5  
  
Pairing: none  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Warnings: minor character death, minor language  
  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).  
  
Stargate SG-1 The Visit.  
"Prisoner 9476529. You have a visitor." The guard shouted through the door. "Stand away from the entrance," the guard warned him. He did as he was told.  
  
There was a hiss and a clank as the electronic locking mechanism opened and the door slowly swung open. Curious, in spite of himself, Robert Makepeace took a step forward. He frowned in surprised recognition and stepped back to allow her to enter.  
  
"Colonel - er - Sir - er - Mister..." She didn't know what to call him. Her military training had taught her to respect the rank if not the man, but he didn't have the rank now, and how could anyone respect him after what he'd done. He didn't even deserve to be called mister anymore. Scum. Bastard. Piece of shit. Any of those words would describe him. But traitor was the best. That's what he was - a traitorous piece of shit who'd not only betrayed his comrades but who had almost destroyed their alliance with the Tollan, Nox and Asgard. So what the hell was she doing here, he wondered.  
  
"Major Carter? What in hell's name are you doing here?" Makepeace asked as she stepped into his cell.  
  
He couldn't for the life of him figure out why she'd come. To gloat? Nah, that wasn't her. To help? There was nothing she could do and it wasn't really her thing either. Although they had become friendlier a while back - after their joint operation to rescue Jack O'Neill from Hathor's clutches. But rumour around the base was that she had the hots for O'Neill, and regulations - the whole Colonel/Major deal - blah, blah, blah - had kept it from going any further.  
  
At least they'd made it look as though it hadn't gone any further.  
  
Makepeace often wondered if they were getting it on and just being careful.  
  
One or two times he'd been tempted to ask her, but knew he'd probably wind up unconscious in the infirmary with a broken jaw, or worse.  
  
In spite of all this they'd been friendly. They'd meet in the mess now and then and share a table together. Chatting about different missions, joking and generally being casual friends. Nothing planned. Nothing illicit, of course. He was a colonel, just like O'Neill, and she was a major and fraternisation was against - blah, blah, blah. But just occasionally he liked to think, pretend, believe, hope, whatever - that there was maybe something more.  
  
Now of course, it was too late. Anything more would be just wishful thinking. Not that there would have been anything more to it anyway. When O'Neill 'resigned' and he took over SG-1 that had been that. She was all career-girl and any friendliness between them disappeared mighty fast the day he was appointed to SG-1 and became her commanding officer. He wondered if maybe she'd been annoyed at being passed over. Daniel Jackson had muttered something to that effect although she'd denied it, but he wondered if maybe deep down she'd wanted to be the boss. And of course, she'd been plenty annoyed at O'Neill bailing the way he did. After all she hadn't been party to the reason behind his 'resignation' and the covert op that has resulted in him sitting here in a cell wondering where it had all gone wrong.  
  
So why was she here? She looked uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. But it didn't matter why. He didn't care any more. He was just thankful to have a visitor. Hell, any visitor would do! Except maybe Jack O'Neill. Now, he would have gloated! That age-old US Marines versus the US Air Force rivalry would have kept it from being any other way.  
  
So why was she here? He folded his arms and waited. He watched as she walked into his cell, smelling her perfume as she walked past him, something light that reminded him of a fresh summer's day. That was something he'd never see again. She was dressed in civies - jeans and a short leather jacket. It was tan in colour and it suited her well. She looked good. So dammed good, he thought. She smelled good and she looked good, and he hated her at that moment because she could walk in, smelling like a summer's day and looking like sex on a summer's night, and she could walk out again, leaving him alone with the smell of her perfume to torture him.  
  
"So why are you here, Major Carter?" He finally asked.  
  
"I don't know - sir." It was obvious from her discomfort she didn't know. But he wasn't in a mood to let her off that lightly.  
  
"Come to gloat, have you? Come to have one last look at the condemned man? Is that it, Carter?" He spat the words out. He was so angry now. Hurt because he wanted her - not sexually - not that. He just wanted his life back. Wanted to be a part of it all again. She reminded him of it all, and that hurt so bad. If they'd just shot him - he wouldn't have to face these long, lonely, endless days. Sometimes he was tempted to throw in the towel and just give it all up, because the thought of facing another day, another week, another year - if only they'd just shot him.  
  
"Because if it is that, then you can fuck off right now," he told her.  
  
She frowned, shaking her head. "No. No - that's not it. I came - I came to see you, Sir. To see if you were all right. Sir - I felt that maybe..."  
  
"Stop calling me Sir! I'm not a colonel any more. I'm not a Marine any more, dammit!" Still angry. Still hurting.  
  
"I know that! I just don't know what to call you - now."  
  
He relented. "I'm sorry. Call me Robert."  
  
She relaxed a bit, almost smiled too. That would have been nice. But he could see she was a long way from smiling in his company. "Just call me Robert. That's all I am now."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah okay - Robert," she tried it. "It just seems a bit weird, you know. I still think of you as Colonel Makepeace."  
  
"I know," he relented some more. There was no point in anything else. "Come and sit down. It is good to see you. A bit surprising, but good all the same."  
  
She sat down opposite him and glanced around the room. To call it a room was a bit much, it was hardly big enough to be a room. A narrow bed against the wall. A wooden table and a chair. A few books on a shelf. A writing pad and a pen. The pad was blank.  
  
He saw the look on her face. Couldn't read it though. "It ain't much but it's home." The sarcasm hit him more than her. "I'm thinking of writing my memoirs, but there's not much point, is there?"  
  
"No. I guess not," she replied.  
  
Makepeace leaned against the wall and folded his arms and waited.  
  
She could hardly look him in the eye and that felt good, but not so good, too. He wanted her to talk to him. Wanted her to speak. Say anything, just to hear a voice would do. God, he missed life so much. Missed the little things like being able to talk with someone other than a guard. Missed - hell he missed everything. Everything he'd once had and he'd thrown away.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
She met his eyes. "What?"  
  
"Are you going to just sit here? You know if you're that uncomfortable you can just leave. No one's forcing you to stay. It's not a prison - for you."  
  
"I'm sorry Sir - I mean - Robert. This is hard. I don't know what to say. Maybe I've made a mistake. Maybe I should go." She shook her head and stood up.  
  
"No! Don't go. Please. I'm glad you're here. Don't go Carter.  
  
Please." He hated himself for begging.  
  
She sat down again and he breathed again. "Call me Sam then," she told him. "I don't want you calling me Major. It doesn't seem right any more."  
  
"Okay - Sam." He tried it himself. It seemed okay. He'd have preferred to call her Samantha but this was enough. Hell, this was more than he could ever hope for.  
  
"Tell me why you came, Sam? To see me?" His voice was soft now, and he remembered the conversations they'd had on the base. Sometimes nothing more than a 'Hiya, how are you?' in passing, sometimes they'd talk for ages. He'd admired her and thought of her as a good soldier, a great soldier, with guts and brains to spare. Oh, and she had a nice ass too. He'd noticed that more than a few times. Everyone had.  
  
This time she did smile and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking, but since she hadn't slapped him she mustn't have.  
  
"When I heard you'd - er - escaped execution and gotten a life sentence, I thought, well I figured you might need someone now and again - to talk to. I mean, you probably don't, but if you do - well, if you do - I just want you to know that I'm here."  
  
Somehow that hurt and a part of him wanted to slap her and tell her to go to hell. He almost did. "Don't pity me Carter."  
  
Anger flared briefly in her eyes. "No I don't pity you, Colonel Makepeace. I don't pity you at all."  
  
Then it died. "I came here because you and I were once friends. I don't understand what you did. I don't condone it. I can't forgive the way you betrayed us, and how much you almost cost us." Her words lashed him and stung him and he wanted to yell at her to just go, but she wouldn't give up. "But you were once my friend and I wanted to come here to see you because, despite what you did, and you deserve this - all of this, don't ever think I don't believe you don't deserve this - but I still think you're a good man. I don't know why, but I do."  
  
She stood up again and looked at her watch. "I should go, because I have to. Really."  
  
"A few more minutes, please."  
  
She touched his arm. "I can't. I have to be back at the base. But I will come again, if you want me to. If it's okay with you, I'll come next week. Is it okay? Do you want me to come?"  
  
He had nothing else. Maybe she had nothing else either. He nodded and this time she really did smile at him.  
  
"I'll see you next week then. Okay?"  
  
"Yes, okay. Thanks Sam. I mean it."  
  
"I'll be here. Next week. I promise." She knocked on the door, signalling the guard that she was ready to leave. The heavy door closed with a thud and he stood there where she'd left him. She'd left behind the smell of her perfume. It wasn't much, but it was his entire world now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe he could last another week.  
  
****  
  
Sometimes a week could be longer than eternity. Makepeace discovered this in the days after she'd left. By the third day he was climbing the walls. Not with boredom - that would have been a piece of cake compared to the anxiety he was feeling right now. He didn't believe she'd show up again. He'd convinced himself of that. She'd only visited him out of curiosity, nothing more. Well, maybe some pity, but only a speck. Nah, it was just a curiosity that she'd now satisfied and she'd never visit again.  
  
What would be worse, he wondered. Her never showing up again, or going through this torture every week? Both were bad.  
  
He was pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth - fifteen steps from one end of the cell to the other. Seven widthways. He forced himself to stop and sit down. He looked at his watch. Christ! It was only ten thirty. It was two more hours until they fed him again, then another until his exercise time. That was the only time he was allowed out of the cell - in chains of course. They gave him an hour outside, to walk or jog - with two armed guards beside him. No talking was the rule, except when they told him to go back in. He was also allowed a smoke for five minutes, but he didn't smoke, so they gave him an extra five minutes around the yard. Then back inside. Searched and locked up again until they brought him more of the same food.  
  
And that was his day. That had been the sum of his days for the past couple of years.  
  
There were other prisoners, but he never saw them. He was in solitary confinement naturally, because of his status. He was a 'special category' prisoner because of his previous existence - the life he'd once led on this world and on other worlds. Did the guards even know that he'd travelled to other planets? Would they believe him if he told them? Probably not. They'd figure he was nuts.  
  
It was only the lingering smell of her perfume that convinced him she really had been here, in his cell, talking to him. It had stayed with him for a couple of days - and nights - then it had faded, leaving him more alone than ever.  
  
She wouldn't show. There was no way she would come back again. Why should she? She'd told him she'd be here again next week. It was next week now. A week ago today. An eternity ago today. This time last week she'd been sitting here with him in his cell, trying not to call him sir, and not knowing what to say to him. He wondered what she was doing tonight. Was she on her way? Had she forgotten she'd ever been here? Would she return? No. She wouldn't.  
  
He looked at his watch. It was dark outside, well he figured it was dark outside, it was almost nine o'clock. She wasn't coming. He knew she wouldn't. He lowered his head onto the table and closed his eyes.  
  
****  
  
The sound of the door startled him. "You have a visitor," the guard yelled. "Stand back from the door." He sat upright as she walked in, the heavy door closing behind her, locking her inside, with him.  
  
"Hi," she said.  
  
"Hi." He looked at her. She looked tired. Her eyes were large and dark. She ran her fingers through her hair and smiled - a tired smile. She sat down on the bed and looked around her.  
  
"I'm stupid," she told him. "I should have asked to you last week if there was anything you wanted me to bring you. I didn't think. I'm sorry."  
  
"A bottle of whiskey, maybe."  
  
Sam shook her head. "Actually sir, that's not allowed. But if there is anything you want that I am allowed to bring, just say so."  
  
"I didn't think you'd be here. Thought you weren't coming. Any more."  
  
She frowned. "Why not? I said that I would."  
  
He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I know, but I didn't think - and then when you didn't show today..."  
  
"No Robert. I didn't show today because I was - um - elsewhere - if you understand." He did. She'd been on a mission offworld - far across the galaxy. "I was late getting back and came as soon as I could. Did you think I didn't mean what I said?"  
  
He knew he was acting like a spoiled child. He couldn't help it. He was like a child now, totally dependant on her for company, companionship, friendship - all the things he once took for granted. If she hadn't shown up - he couldn't imagine how he would have felt. He'd never been that dependant on another human being before. He'd fought in the Gulf War. He'd watched as Saddam had burned the oil fields in Kuwait. He'd taken on the Iraqi's, the Goau'ld, and the NID and he'd been stronger than any of them. Now look at him. He hated himself, and he hated this self-pity. He'd accused her of pitying him, now here he was wallowing in it.  
  
"I'm sorry. It's been a long week." His smile was rueful. "Can we start again?"  
  
Sam nodded, almost smiling back at him. "Sure. But remember what I said. I'll be here. If I don't show up, it's because I'm - er - working - away someplace - and I can't make it. It won't be because I'm not coming."  
  
"Why are you here?" He asked her the question he'd asked himself a hundred - a thousand - a hundred thousand - times.  
  
She shook her head. "Does it matter?"  
  
"I guess not." He could see the tiredness in her eyes and on her face. "You look beat." She nodded. "Go home Major. Get some sleep. That's an order from your ex commanding officer." He smiled, although the joke was on him.  
  
She was beat and, like the good little soldier she was, she did what she was ordered. "Okay. I'll see you next week." She touched his shoulder gently and his hand caught hers.  
  
"Thank you Sam."  
  
She pulled her hand away. Makepeace watched her leave.  
  
*****  
  
Major Carter pulled up at the side of the road and switched off the engine. She was only a few miles from home, and looking forward to a hot bath and a good night's sleep, if it came. Something about what she was doing made her feel dirty. But orders were orders. She dialled a number on her cell phone.  
  
"It's going to take a while, Sir. I've nothing constructive to report as yet. He's still strong. He's still very defiant. Still angry at the world and at himself for getting caught, but given enough time, I think I can get him to trust me."  
  
*****  
  
She kept her word and, once a week she'd show up, and stay a couple of hours with him. The days in between were tough, waiting and wondering, and worrying, but gradually he began to relax, knowing that she would be there for him. It was hard counting the hours sometimes, but he learned to deal with it. She brought him books, decent food, and even a computer. He didn't know, didn't care how she'd managed to swing that one, but she did. Somehow. It made the hours and days pass a little more quickly now.  
  
He'd stopped asking her why she came, just accepted it and was thankful she did. She never said why, just talked about herself mostly, and every now and then asked him if he was okay.  
  
"No. Okay is not a word I'd use, I'm far from okay, but I know what you mean and I'm fine." He told her. She seemed to accept that without going into it any deeper.  
  
"Whatcha been up to at work?" He tried to ask her about it. Remembering it.  
  
"Robert, please. You know it's classified." She looked uncomfortable.  
  
"Yeah I know, and I'm not in the SGC anymore, and national security, and - yada, yada, yada. I'm just curious about it, even now."  
  
It was classified, and he was out of the loop, but now and then she'd tell him little stuff. Mostly the fun stuff, like O'Neill trying to be the diplomat and failing miserably. He was like O'Neill in that respect, or at least had been at one time. In another lifetime. Now he was taking a crash course in diplomacy, learning what he could and couldn't say to her.  
  
Sometimes she was uncomfortable in his presence, hardly able to talk, and the silence between them stretched like an ever-widening gulf, until she'd make a move to leave, and he'd ask her to stay a few more minutes. Then she'd relax a bit, and they'd hedge around what she seemed to want to say but couldn't. Once, as she was leaving, he thought he saw a tear in her eye. It worried him. It frightened him. It made him wonder if there had ever been any feelings for him on her part, if he'd been totally off base with his speculation about her and O'Neill. But he never asked. He knew her better than that. That's how good he'd become at playing the diplomat.  
  
*****  
  
One day she came to him and it was obvious that she'd been crying. A lot.  
  
"Daniel's dead," she told him, tears welling up again. He wanted to hold her. It seemed her whole world had caved in. She began to cry again. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I couldn't do this on the base, and I've sort of bottled it up for ages now. No one understands just how much I've missed him."  
  
He so wanted to hold her, but that was an unspoken rule between them. No touching. Although now and then she broke it, but if ever he did, she'd jump back as though he'd burned her. It made him feel like he was shit in her eyes.  
  
Fuck it, he thought and put his arms around her. This time she didn't resist, and he held her close to him, and she cried on his shoulder. He comforted her as best as he could, and listened as she told him what had happened and how Daniel Jackson had died. How the new guy, Jonas, had taken Daniel's place and how she resented him because he'd taken Daniel's place, and how she felt bad about resenting him.  
  
"Shhhh, it's okay." Makepeace told her. Suddenly, she was the one in need of someone. It felt good to be on the other side for a change. He held her tightly. "It's okay Sam, I'm here for you."  
  
*****  
  
"Yo! Carter!" Jack O'Neill caught up with her as she was leaving the locker room. "Teal'c and Jonas and me are going for a pizza. You in?"  
  
She shook her head. "Thanks sir, but not tonight."  
  
"But it's your turn to buy," O'Neill reminded her.  
  
She smiled but it was forced. "Next time, I promise." She shoved her hands deeply into her pockets and headed for the door. Puzzled, O'Neill watched her leave. She'd been very quiet lately, something was bugging her, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her.  
  
*****  
  
"Does Jack know you come to visit me?" Robert asked. Keep your big mouth shut you fool, he told himself, but it was out of him before he could stop it.  
  
"No. Of course not! No one knows. Why?" She looked startled by his question and he kicked himself again.  
  
"Dunno. It just still surprises me that you come here so faithfully every week. To sit and talk with me, keep me company and then go. I wondered if you talked about me to him." He couldn't stop the sarcasm creeping into his voice.  
  
"I could stop coming, if that's what you want?" She hit back at him. She was good. She kept him right where she could control him. This was the first time she'd threatened to stop visiting him, and she had him right where she wanted him, because if she stopped - when she stopped - then he was dead. He knew it and she knew it. He could see it in her eyes, and he was helpless to fight against it. He needed her.  
  
"No." It was hardly more than a whisper, but it was all he could manage.  
  
She glanced at her watch. She'd only been here ten minutes. Don't go, he prayed, almost frantic at the thought that she would get up and leave so soon.  
  
"Tell me about your trial?" she asked instead.  
  
That surprised him. It was the first time she'd ever mentioned it. He didn't want to talk about it, it was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but if it kept her here...  
  
"It wasn't much of a trial. I pleaded guilty, they sentenced me to be executed, but because I'd pleaded guilty, they commuted it to life in solitary - to this!"  
  
"Did you get a chance to say anything about it? About your arrest? And what you did?"  
  
"No." He grew wary, and angry. "What I did? Carter, I did my duty as a US Marine! As an officer! That's what I did. This is what it got me!"  
  
"But you betrayed us? All of us. Me. The SGC. Your old team. SG-1. All of us! Do you know how I felt when I saw Colonel O'Neill arrest you?"  
  
"Disgust? Relief that I'd been caught? What?"  
  
"Disappointment, sir. You were a good officer, and I respected you, and I was so disappointed when we - when we - discovered it was you. That you were the traitor. It - you - made me feel sick."  
  
"Not as sick as I felt when O'Neill slapped those handcuffs on me!" He looked at her. "No Sam, there was so much more to it than that - I can't begin to tell you just how much more there was."  
  
"Yeah? Try me?" She folded her arms and stared at him.  
  
He could tell how disgusted she was. He wanted to tell her. Wanted her respect and admiration back again. But that was gone. Forever.  
  
"No."  
  
"Do it, Robert." She tried to push him forward.  
  
"No. Get outta here, Carter! Just go. You make me feel sick! You bitch!"  
  
She was gone in a second, and this time he knew she wouldn't be coming back. He wished he were dead. He wished he'd told her now.  
  
*****  
  
Sam threw up as soon as she got home. How she'd managed to make it to the bathroom she never knew. This was getting harder and harder. She was supposed to check in with her report after every meeting, but she couldn't face it tonight. Wiping her face, she checked her answering machine. She had two messages. Both of them were from Colonel O'Neill.  
  
"Carter! Hello! Anybody home?" said the first.  
  
"Hel-lo Carter? Are you okay? Pick up if you're there." He sounded worried. It would have been nice to talk to him - she almost dialled his number - but she had to do this by herself, that was the hard part - having to do it all by herself. She was so used to being part of a team - now she was a bit like Colonel Makepeace - all alone.  
  
With a sigh she deleted the messages, took the phone off the hook, and went to bed. But she didn't sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Makepeace couldn't believe it when she showed up the next afternoon. He frowned as she walked into the cell, the door closing behind her, as usual.  
  
She met his eyes and he noticed how tired she looked. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying again? Who'd died? Or had she been crying for him?  
  
Sam gently touched his face. "I'm sorry about yesterday. That's why I came today - to apologise to you. I was tired, Robert and things got to me a little."  
  
"I'm glad you came back," he told her. "I was worried that you wouldn't."  
  
"I'm okay, but I can't stay. I just wanted to make sure you were - you know - okay too."  
  
"What I said yesterday, calling you a bitch, I didn't mean it. Sam, I think the world of you. Hell, you are my world!" He wished he could hold her.  
  
"Shhhh. It doesn't matter what you said. I'll see you next week." She put her arms around him, giving him a quick hug, and then she was gone again, but he felt happier than he had in the last couple of years.  
  
*****  
  
"Colonel Maybourne got away a while ago, did you know that?" She told him a few weeks later.  
  
"The bastard! When we knew he was involved..." he stopped.  
  
"What?"  
  
Shit. It was out of him before he'd realised. "Nothing. Forget it."  
  
"Robert? Tell me about Maybourne. What did you know about his involvement?" She leaned forward, all interested now.  
  
"No. I can't." But he wanted to. He wanted her respect back again.  
  
Sam bit her lip and ducked her head and he just couldn't read her, but it seemed she wanted him to tell her. Or did he just want her to want him to tell her? It would be so easy, but...  
  
She reached for his hand. "I - I really hated seeing them dragging you away from the gateroom the way they did. It must have felt so - so degrading."  
  
"Guess I deserved it," he replied, unable to look her in the eye.  
  
Sam squeezed his hand. "But did you deserve it? Sometimes I find that so hard to believe. It - that - man I saw being dragged away wasn't the man I knew."  
  
He couldn't keep it from her anymore. Someone had to know the truth. Someone had to believe in him. It wouldn't help. It wouldn't make any difference to him, but just knowing that she knew...  
  
"Sam, you can't ever mention this to anyone. Promise me?" She nodded. "It's - it's dangerous. It's too damn dangerous for you if you know. I don't want anything happening to you."  
  
He took a deep breath - the relief of finally telling someone. The relief of finally - letting it go. "Maybourne was involved and he recruited me. But I was expecting it." Another deep breath. "You see, I'd been briefed to expect it."  
  
"What? Are you saying you knew about it, like Jack - I mean - Colonel O'Neill did?" She looked shocked. He didn't want her to be shocked, but he wanted to tell her. Suddenly he wanted to tell her all of it. He had to tell her the truth.  
  
"I went in with my eyes open, Sam. I knew it could cost me my career and possibly my life, but I'd been on suicide missions before and this was nothing new. You see, catching Maybourne was the tip of the iceberg. It goes so much further up. Far beyond the NID. I went in to get beyond him. And I would have done it if the Tollan hadn't blown it. We'd debated telling them and the Asgard, but decided not to. That was a big mistake, and when Jack resigned and I took over SG-1, well I figured that Hammond and him were on to me, but I..."  
  
"Why didn't you tell General Hammond?"  
  
"Because, at that stage, I didn't know who was involved. It could have been anyone."  
  
"Did you find out who?"  
  
He laughed bitterly. "That's the kicker, ain't it? I never did. The Tollan first, and then the Asgard, tipped off the SGC and everything pointed to me, which was the way it supposed to happen, just not so soon, so I ended up the fall guy. Simply because the operation was blown before we could get in any further. Everything I stole, every piece of alien technology I stole, I took in the knowledge that if I was caught, I'd be destroyed, but I knew I had to make it look good to get to the ones who were behind it all. Not Maybourne. He didn't even know them. He was their front man, but he didn't know who 'they' were." He looked at her. "I was so dammed close when Jack arrested me. I was only doing what he was doing. Making it look as though I'd turned. Now you know just how sick I felt when he put those handcuffs on me - in front of everyone."  
  
He grinned sarcastically. "But hey babe, it's me you come to see, ain't it?"  
  
She was horrified. It was written all over her face. "Who ordered you to do this?" she asked.  
  
"I can't tell you that, Sam. Let's just say my orders came from very high up. I can't say who it was. No one would believe me anyway. And if I told you anything now I could blow any ops that are still running."  
  
"Why didn't you say all this at your trial?" Sam asked.  
  
Makepeace glared at her. "Jesus Christ, Major! Are you so innocent? Or just so stupid, for all your brains? I had no proof! Nothing! There wasn't a thing I could say in my defence, and just like the good soldier I am, I kept my mouth shut and here's where it got me!"  
  
All the bitterness welled up in him, and at that moment he hated her, and all she stood for. He wanted to kill her.  
  
"Colonel Makepeace? Robert? I - I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And then her arms were around him and she was holding on to him like she'd never let him go. "It'll be all right. You can - I can - talk to someone, and once the truth is known ..." She couldn't go on.  
  
But it wouldn't be all right. It would never be all right. She, damm her, knew the truth now. What was that old line about the truth and how it would set you free? No. The truth was a whole lot more dangerous than that. The truth could be a real killer sometimes! He fought to keep the anger down. That, and the dread he now felt.  
  
He kissed her gently on the lips, cradling her face in his palm. "Hey Sam, it's okay. It doesn't matter anymore." Then he took a deep breath and smiled fondly at her. It really didn't matter any more. "Maybe now you'll think a little better of me. I'm not the traitorous piece of shit you thought I was."  
  
Well now she knows, he thought. Now I have to protect her, somehow. For she was a good soldier and he was proud to have been her commanding officer, and to have served with her. Now she'll be proud to have served with me too, he thought. And that's all that matters now.  
  
She wouldn't let go, but that was okay. She felt good against him. So dammed good. He held her tightly and he could smell her perfume. He breathed it in deeply. It was light and it reminded him of a fresh summer's day. It would stay with him a long while.  
  
He gave her one last kiss and a smile. "It's late. Get on home now. I'll see you next week. Okay?"  
  
She nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him.  
  
"Go home Major Carter. That's an order." He grinned at her.  
  
*****  
  
But Sam didn't go home. She couldn't because she knew she couldn't keep this to herself any more. It was slowly killing her. She was in far too deep and she needed help, so she went straight to Colonel O'Neill's house. The only man she knew she could trust. She prayed he'd be in.  
  
"What is it?" He yelled as he opened the door. "Carter? What the - ?"  
  
"Sir. I really need to talk to you. Can I come in?"  
  
"Er - yeah, sure."  
  
She ducked under his arm and into the hallway, heading straight to the kitchen.  
  
"Excuse the mess. It's the uh - maid's day off." Jack joked as he followed her, raising an eyebrow as she poured a large whiskey into a glass. "Help yourself." He told her.  
  
Sam took a large mouthful and then another. She didn't know where to start. She was angry, hurt, betrayed, and shocked. Everything. All her emotions were rolled into one. If this was how she felt, then how bad must it be for Colonel Makepeace?  
  
"Sir, can I trust you?" She asked.  
  
"Sure." Jack frowned. Then his eyes narrowed. He tried not to be flippant with her. Tried his best, but... "Why you ask, grasshopper?"  
  
"As my friend? Not as my CO?" Sam ignored his flippant remark. She knew him too well.  
  
"What is it Carter?" The look in her eyes warned him to quit messing about.  
  
"I've been visiting Colonel Makepeace in prison."  
  
"O-kay." Jack pretended to nod wisely. "This is a little weird, but I'm with you so far."  
  
"General Hammond asked me to."  
  
"This is getting a little weirder now, but go on."  
  
She took another mouthful of whiskey. Poured some more and looked at him and began. She told him everything. The whole story. How General Hammond had asked her to visit Colonel Makepeace and befriend him. He hadn't given her a reason, she said, other than to find out what had really happened, and she hadn't asked.  
  
"I did what I was told," she continued as Jack went for the whiskey bottle himself. "I wasn't keen on the idea of visiting him at first but it got to the stage where I had to do it. I felt crap about doing it, but I had to. He needed my company. Needed me. But I felt I was using him, because Hammond wanted to know if anyone else was involved. It made me feel sick."  
  
"Yeah, I can see how it would - do that. Makepeace tended to make me sick even when he was one of us good guys. I'm sorry, forget I said that. Go on."  
  
Jack was at a loss for words as Sam went on telling him how she'd made Makepeace trust her until he told it all to her, and she told Jack everything that he'd told her.  
  
She made another pot of coffee. They'd finished the bottle of whiskey and they were through one pot of coffee already. That's how long it took for her to tell him what she'd been doing, once a week, for the past few months.  
  
"What do I do now Jack?" she asked. "I think - no - I know - that he's telling me the truth. He's innocent, sir."  
  
"Pass the buck. Tell Hammond and leave it to him. That's all you can do. You can go see Makepeace tomorrow and tell him Hammond is working on it. Then you don't have to visit again - er - unless you want to, that is. And if you need some back-up, I'll go along with you. As back-up, that is. I can do back-up! No problem!"  
  
"No. That's not enough. Sir, Colonel Makepeace has no proof! What can General Hammond do?"  
  
"I don't know." Jack opened another bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. He offered some to Carter but she shook her head. It had sickened him when he'd caught Makepeace lifting the item he'd planted beside the DHD. He was the last one he would have suspected. But he'd been thankful it had been Makepeace and not any of his own team. But having to arrest him stuck in his throat and it left a bad taste there that didn't go away for a long time. It only took him seconds to make his mind up. "I'll go call Hammond. Wait here."  
  
He was gone for ages and when he returned he looked grim.  
  
****  
  
"Well?" Sam asked. "What did General Hammond say?"  
  
"Sam, it doesn't matter any more." His voice was low. He took her hand in his.  
  
Something was very wrong, she could tell. "What is it, Sir?"  
  
"Hammond had just gotten a call from the prison, just before I spoke to him. Sam, I'm real sorry but - Robert Makepeace killed himself an hour ago."  
  
The end  
Note - I wrote this story because I'd always that felt Colonel Makepeace needed some closure. I liked his character, what we knew of him, and I felt there was more to him than the traitor he turned out to be in 'Shades of Grey'. Mandi Sheridan - March 2003. 


End file.
